


Lunch Invitation

by pensivecowboyemoji



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Don't trust a word he says, Garak lies a lot, M/M, Neurodivergent Julian Bashir, Post-Episode: s01e03 Past Prologue, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:14:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29491893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pensivecowboyemoji/pseuds/pensivecowboyemoji
Summary: Other humans are so plain and dull, all about as interesting to him as one of Dukat’s inane speeches about hisbenevolenceto the Bajoran people. No, the Doctor, fresh out of medical school, brims with the vitality of naivete, unburdened by the cruel machinations of the universe.His kind, jovial nature and ability to strike up conversation with anyone makes him an undeniably attractive individual to be around - and Garak isn't alone in this observation. The young man had been on no less than three dates in the two and a half weeks he'd been aboard, all beautiful young women (two Bajoran dabo girls, one Human freighter mechanic) who’d disappeared with him later in the evening.Not that he was paying any particular attention.
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 12
Kudos: 45





	Lunch Invitation

**Author's Note:**

> eh so i was gonna write something a little different but... it got away from me a bit innit. Such is the life of an artist *sighs dramatically and looks out the window* it's not exactly what i want it to be but i've read it fifteen times at this point and i might poke m eyes out if i have to any more.  
> The title sucks but it says what it is on the tin. Its either this or another everything everything lyric. btw listen to warm healer (same band) its succhchhhh a garak song mama mia.  
> i also accidentally made this a bit more about hands than was totally necessary. I have a problem... its called being Gay....  
> as always my deepest gratitude to dan. u are epic!  
> u get extra points if you catch the cardassian physiology headcanons i snuck in here. lol.
> 
> Cw for drug abuse (the wire) and intrusive thought about how to kill someone. mentally ill bitches make some noise!!!!!!

Julian Bashir is a fascinating subject.

He feels almost guilty that he only approached him for an entrance point into the so-called “Deep Space 9”’s circle of senior staff. Well, that and the aforementioned observation: Julian Bashir is fascinating to observe.   
Other humans are so plain and dull, all about as interesting to him as one of Dukat’s inane speeches about his _benevolence_ to the Bajoran people. No, the Doctor, fresh out of medical school, brims with the vitality of naivete, unburdened by the cruel machinations of the universe.   
His kind, jovial nature and ability to strike up conversation with anyone makes him an undeniably attractive individual to be around - and Garak isn't alone in this observation. The young man had been on no less than three dates in the two and a half weeks he'd been aboard, all beautiful young women (two Bajoran dabo girls, one Human freighter mechanic) who’d disappeared with him later in the evening. 

Not that he was paying any particular attention.

So it was coincidence, _naturally_ , that he’d ended up halfway across the replimat from the Doctor. It was such that the replicator in the back room of his tailor’s shop had broken, with no hope of a fix until the Delta shift came on at eighteen-hundred. And he can't go _all day_ without a beverage! Of course, he only intended to shut his shop for a scant few minutes while he came to the replimat to retrieve a red leaf tea, as was his custom. (Apparently Quark can’t get his hands on any fresh leaves, so replicated will have to do for the time being - much to his disappointment.) And if he were to hear the peals of laughter from the Doctor as he talked with Lieutenant Dax, who was he to deny he should sit down while he drank? It had been a busy morning, and Odo's pedantic nature would likely take issue with his carrying of an open-top beverage while the promenade was so busy. 

So, he watches them talk instead. Julian is bright and overeager, leaning halfway across the table as he speaks. His left hand fiddles with a stylus, flipping it back and forth between his long fingers, occasionally tapping it against the Padd on the table below his hand. His right hand supports his head, tilted slightly to one side, watching Dax intently as she talks (she appears to be telling a story, judging from her gesturing). His eyes are wide in shock and sparkling in mirth, hair tousled in what Garak assumes to be an intentional style - it seems to be a popular look in the human fashion magazines he’d begun picking up in order to cater to this new captive audience better. The doctor laughs again, head tipping back and exposing the smooth brown skin of his neck. An image flashes, unbidden, in his mind; all the ways he could snap a neck so fragile, with none of the ridges along the spine and shoulders that would protect him and other Cardassians from such an attack, the Human is _awfully_ vulnerable. 

Garak shakes his head, clearing the thought. It's unpleasant, reminiscent of his posting on Bajor interrogating insurgents. And he's no longer that man! He's a tailor, has been for years at this point. Any yearning for that kind of power is a weakness and counterproductive.

He can‘t hear what they’re discussing, obstructed by the murmur of other voices around him. That’s something the Order should have improved, too - Cardassians, on the whole, can’t hear below 23 decibels, according to the human scale. Not that he’s _ungrateful_ for the Wire - quite to the contrary, in fact. It makes his life somewhat tolerable! It’s simply frustrating to see his weakness and have no realistic way to deal with such an issue. His salary as a tailor only barely covers expenses, so there’s no chance of being able to afford such a procedure. 

He watches as Dax stands up, patting Julian on the shoulder as she leaves. The Doctor visibly deflates and hunches over his Padd, tapping the stylus against the screen.   
He doesn’t seem to be interested in leaving anytime soon, and Garak wants to try out the human socialisation he’s been studying in private, so he stands, stopping by one of the replicators to get a cup of Tarkalean tea. He’s had it even before the Doctor made his flustered recommendation at their first meeting. It’s never been to his particular liking.  
He wanders over innocently, smile tight and polite as always.  
"Doctor Bashir?”   
Julian looks up, eyes wide, and he straightens, grin spreading across his face upon seeing Garak.  
“Garak! Gosh, I’m so sorry I’ve not been in to see you after the whole,” he waves his stylus in the air, “Tahna Los incident. I did mean to, honest! I just never seemed to have the time, and you’re usually closed by the time I finish my shift, and-”   
He breaks himself off, cheeks darkening, and dips his head bashfully. He is so _delightfully_ expressive - a novelty, really.  
“My dear Doctor, it’s no problem at all! I simply approached you to note the Tarkalean tea you recommended before. It’s quite delicious - I must thank you for introducing me to this culinary delight!”  
Julian grins, as radiant as it always is, and wiggles his shoulders at the praise. The stylus _tap-tap_ s again.   
“Oh you do? I’m pleased to hear! Are there any recommendations in return? I’ll admit, I tried sand peas the other day. Quark seems to want to get rid of them, there’s a sale on at the moment - but I checked and it turned out he charged me full price? It's a bit of a weird business practice, but I guess it works?”  
Garak chuckles, sitting down in the seat Dax had vacated. “Oh, he tends to do that. Always check before you pay, Doctor! Quark will wring you of every bar of latinum long before you realise it. Did you enjoy them? It’s one of my preferred snacks.”  
Julian frowns, “Isn't that illegal? It's clever though, I'll give him that. They aren’t that bad! Nice with a bit of yamok sauce. That reminds me: what _is_ a yamok? The databases were wiped and the computer is absolutely _no_ help and none of the books I've read say _anything_ about it, except that it's some kind of vegetable?”  
Garak sets his cup down, leaning forward. "Unfortunately Doctor, that's classified information by Central Command. I'm under oath. All Cardassians are, in fact."  
Julian looks alarmed, eyes widening again. “It isn't something _bad_ , is it? It tasted quite nice, fru-” he catches the raised corner Garak's mouth, and groans.  
"You're joking. Alright, you got me. Congratulations. But really, what is- Did you just _wink?_ " Julian looked surprised and somewhat awed by the movement. (Not that he'd ever confess, but it had taken hours of practice in his quarters as he finished a rather lovely commission. It looked strange, compared to that of the original. His lower lid moved to close the eye, the third eyelid sliding across and back, much unlike the natural movement of the Human eye.)   
Julian reaches for his Padd and scribbles something down without looking. “Do it again?” He clasps his hands together imploringly.  
“Come now, Doctor, I’m no test subject!" He gasps dramatically in return, scandalised. "You’ll have to save your studies for if I ever suffer a terrible accident cutting cloth.”   
Julian laughs, hands unclasping. “Is the life of a tailor really so dangerous, Mister Garak?”  
“Quite, Doctor. You have no idea what a seam ripper can do in the wrong hands!”   
The Human nods thoughtfully, then gasps a little. “Ah! That reminds me, I’ve been meaning to drop some of my uniforms off for alteration! My sleeves are a little on the long side and the waistband is a bit wide,” he drops the stylus onto the Padd and stretches out his arm, palm turned up.  
His sleeves _are_ long, and Garak reaches out before he can stop himself, fingers grazing Julian’s hand and relishing in the heat radiating from the Human’s skin. He turns the sleeve up once, twice, smoothing the creases such that the knuckles of his thumbs sweep around Julian’s slender wrist and hums in assent. “Indeed, Doctor, it seems they are somewhat long on you. If you’re so inclined you could drop them by-” _my quarters tonight?_ Is the first phrasing that comes to mind. But it is an impulsive thing to say. Certainly, prepositioning him so boldly means he risks losing what is currently his only connection to Starfleet - Which makes him vulnerable. Julian is too much of an asset to risk rejection over something so frivolous. He continues instead, “-the shop tomorrow morning? I’ve just had an order cancel on me, and it'd be an easy fix."  
Julian nods jerkily. “Yes. Yes! That sounds great, awesome. Uh....” He trails off and stares at the Cardassian for a beat. It's somewhat alarming, and Garak frantically thinks of a new topic of conversation, when-  
"Uh , how familiar are you with human fiction?”  
The subject change seems to surprise both of them, the Doctor flushing darker and curling his shoulders inwards. His right hand twitches and he begins tapping his nails against the metal of the table. His left hand is still stretched across the table, radiating warmth into the knuckles of Garak’s hands.   
“Not at all, Doctor.”  
That’s a lie. He’d read through numerous books, each filled with unsubtle propaganda about their idea of “freedom”. He’d found it tedious, but it was an important form of research. He was also a bit bored, and had some time on his hands  
“Ah!” Julian grinned. “Would you be interested in a book I've just finished rereading? It’s a bit fantastical and old, but one of my favourites. It’s called _The House Of Many Ways_ , from the early 21st century.”   
Garak smiles. Excellent. A peek into the Doctor’s psyche, perhaps? “Of course! I’ve been looking for a new book, it seems the recent change in ownership has disrupted supply lines, somewhat.”  
Julian gives him a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry to hear that. It must not be easy for you. If there’s anything I can do…” He trails off a little, looking uncertain.   
Garak smiles placatingly. “Of course! I’ll read your book, and we can discuss it sometime after.”  
Julian frowns. “Discuss it? How do you mean?”  
Garak mirrors his expression. “Do you humans not discuss your literature after reading?”  
Julian hums. “I mean, not always? It’s only really done by people who study literature… Why, is it common for Cardassians?”  
Garak fixes him with an incredulous stare. “Why of course, Doctor Bashir! Discussion of literature is one of the most important aspects of consuming literature for us! Through discussion we can condense our and become more balanced people. I can imagine someone so intoxicated with Federation principles would provide _quite_ an opponent.  
Julian grins and taps the stylus a little faster. “Well, that _does_ sound interesting. I’ve wondered how thoroughly indoctrinated you’d be, what with,” his voice drops to a whisper and he leans in. His left hand curls slightly, fingertips brushing Garak’s palms, “being a _spy_ for the _Obsidian Order_ …”   
Garak smiles, sharp as a knife. The Doctor was so much easier to read than he’d assumed. “My dear, are you _still_ harping on about that? I assure you, you’re quite mistaken.”   
Julian smiles and winks, leaning back. “Of course, you’re just a plain-and-simple tailor!” He glances around surreptitiously “Your secret is safe with me, Garak." Another wink. "But I left the rod in my office, come with me and you can get cracking on crushing my- what was it you said? Federation principles?”  
Garak laughs freely at that. 

He follows Julian round the lower level of the promenade to the infirmary, and waits politely at the entrance. He doesn’t want to expose himself to the harsher lighting of the infirmary if he can help it; the wire alleviates the discomfort, but he doesn't want to wear it out _too_ quickly. And the day hadn't been so bad, not to mention the nurses probably don't care to see him without good reason. Julian shrugs and returns a minute later, brandishing an isolinear rod. He presses it into Garak’s open hand, the movement reminiscent of the handshake Commander Sisko had greeted him with the day the Federation had arrived. This, however, lasts for much longer, while Julian speaks.   
“I have lunch between twelve and thirteen-hundred hours most days, so… Comm me when you’ve finished it? We could, um, have lunch together?” He suddenly seems shy, and Garak closes his other hand around Julian’s, clasping them together.   
“I’d enjoy that, Doctor, thank you. Don’t forget to bring those uniforms to me tomorrow. I’ll take your measurements at the same time.”   
Julian’s cheeks darken again, and he nods. “Sure! I’ll bring them over. Thank you for squeezing me in.” He slides his hand from between Garak's palms. “I’d better get back to work, my break ends in a few minutes.” He grins, and is then gone, disappeared into the bright lights of the infirmary.   
Garak’s hands feel awfully cold, all of a sudden, and he grips the isolinear rod, turning and walking towards his shop.  
 _Got a little sentimental there, Elim._ Tain whispers. _Watch yourself. You know I am._

**Author's Note:**

> drop a kudos and/or comment if you enjoyed!  
> u can find me on you can find me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/zer0-pharaoh) if you fancy. sometimes i make funny post.


End file.
